


Explosive

by snowkatze



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Ball, Fights, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 05:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12403941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowkatze/pseuds/snowkatze
Summary: Simon and Baz get into a fight at the winter ball. It ends in disaster. (After the prompt: "Do you think we're bad people?")





	Explosive

“Hey, Snow,” I smirk, even though it's hard and my jaw is tense. “Where`s Wellbelove?”  
He stops and I push myself off the wall, because I know that I've got him now.

“Is she in the hospital? Have you broken her toes?”  
Now he turns around very slowly. I can almost hear the gears working in his brain as he's trying to come up with a good come-back. His suit is a bit to short at the sleeves and his hair looks disheveled, but of course he still looks incredibly handsome. It's quite unfair, if you think about it. And it only makes me angrier to see him like this. It's the overwhelming urge to fix his hair, to take his hand and whirl him through the room that makes my smile forced. It's the wish to be the one whose feet he steps onto that makes my blood boil.

It's foolish, but I can't resist picking on him.

Not even tonight.

Especially not tonight.

This night, the winter ball, is all about romance (Ugh.) and love ( _Ugh.)._ And his eyes are sparkling, and he ate six sandwiches from the buffet earlier, and he looks so lost in the big ball room without his friends, and he's the most handsome boy in the room (Aagh). He hasn't left Wellbelove's side all evening ( _Aagh._ ). But it's okay, I'm fine. I finally got him alone and I can finally talk to him, if only in biting remarks and insults. Smirking at him is easy, even when my teeth clench and my heart is beating too fast. It's easy to glare at him, as I press my nails into my palm. I am fine.  
“I'm not that bad a dancer,” he finally scowls and leans forward, eyebrows furrowed. “And – even if – at least I've got a date. I haven't seen _you_ dancing with anyone all night.”  
As far as I know, they're only here as friends, but I think he still feels something for her.  
“That's because I _choose_ not to,” I lie, “I could have any girl in this room. But there's just nobody that comes up to my standards.”  
It's not true. I look at the bread crumb stuck in the corner of his mouth. My standards are _incredibly_ low.

“You know what? I think you're right. But the real reason you don't ask anyone is – is because – because you're a vampire!”  
“What? That doesn't even make sense, Snow.”  
“Yes, it does! You – you just don't want to hurt them – so – so you can't let anyone fall in love with you – because then you'd always want to drain them!”  
“Quite the nice picture you're painting there. You seem to deem me very considerate. Now I just feel like you're complimenting me.”

I relax my hands, and lean back again.  
“I'm accusing you of being a vampire!”  
He growls in frustration. It's my favourite sound. I loosen my jaw.  
“Why do you always have to twist my words – it's not fair!”  
“Well, the world isn't fair. That's why they let you into this school in the first place. The son of _ Normals. _ ”

I can see how he almost lunges at me, but then something unexpected happens – he draws back. I cock an eyebrow at him. He's never done that before.

“You know what? I'm not doing this tonight,” he says and turns away. Strange. Snow never backs down from a fight.

“So you've decided to spare us from blowing up the ballroom this year? How nice of you.”

His hands start twitching.

“Shut up,” he whispers with a low voice.

“Why?” I laugh. “Will you go off on me if I don't?”  
“No,” he whispers.

“You ruin everything, Snow,” I snap. “Everything you touch turns to ashes. And it's only a matter of time until Wellbelove will turn to ashes, too, before she'll crumble underneath your-”  
His fist is in face and knocking me down before I can finish my sentence.  _ There  _ he is. That's the Snow I know. I push him off me and we roll across the floor. I punch him square across the face and get up again. When he tries to retaliate, I duck and he misses. I feel blood running down my nose. That's just how I wanted my evening to go. A broken nose (again) and a bloody lip, that's my idea of fun. But the pain stops me from thinking about his own pretty nose and lips, so I throw myself at him again, and we stumble back against the buffet. It crashes and the plates and bowls all fall to the floor. I almost expect Snow to scream in shock and kneel down to mourn his beloved sandwiches, but then I remember that he would eat them off the floor.

“Impressive self-control, Snow,” I snarl. “All you ever do is make a mess. Chosen One? Don't make me laugh. The only thing you were chosen for is to destroy.”  
He leaps at me and throws me to the floor and then I can feel the magic explosion all around us, but his body is pressing me down and his hair is next to my nose.

I hear some students scream and something crashing. The air smells burnt and Snow is shaking against my chest. My entire body hurts, but the only thing I can concentrate on is his chin against my cheekbone.

We lay still for a few moments, maybe minutes.

“Snow?” I whisper. I would push him off, but I'm too exhausted.

“You were right,” he whispers back, but doesn't move and I'm afraid he'll feel my heartbeat.

“Of course I was right,” I say, then pause. “About what?”  
He rolls of me and sits up.

“Hey,” I hear Bunce say. She just came out of nowhere. “Are you alright? What happened?”

I stare at the ceiling, light-points dancing in front of my view. I don't want to get up. I want to keep lying here, for the rest of eternity, until all pain stops and all the feelings tearing me up inside vanish. But I don't want anyone thinking I need help either, so I stand up and look at the chaos around us. Three students and at least one teacher are having a melt-down. Some got knocked over by the impact. The room is buzzing with noise. Nobody really knows what happened. But I do.  
This is my fault.

I rush out of the building, because I feel like I'll suffocate. (Maybe that wouldn't be so bad.)

I sit on the steps to the fire emergency entrance that aren't visible from the main entrance, because I can't stand.

I shouldn't have made Snow go off. I shouldn't have let my own bitterness get the best of me. Not with so many people around. I know that I can't hurt Snow. Not with anything I say, not with anything I do. But other people can get hurt. And I can't let that happen.

After a while, I hear someone sitting next to me. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the green of the suit. Snow. Of course. He's the last person I want to see right now.  
“Do you think we're bad people?” Snow asks, his breath catching in his throat.

“Why would you say that?”  
“Because – because you were right, everything I touch crashes and burns and – and I can never make anything right, because I never do what I'm supposed to, because the world fucking explodes around me, because I can't control who I hurt, or how many, or how badly, because I'm a fucking mess, and you keep pushing me.”

He keeps talking faster and faster.

“Because you and I are like chemicals that shouldn't be put together, because we'll explode and we both know about it, but we keep doing it, and we don't care about anyone around us, only about ourselves and our stupid little arguments. Only that they are not so stupid, because we're fucking mortal enemies or some shit, as if this were some crappy medieval fantasy novel, and our fights are never little because something always ends up exploding.”  
“Fuck off, if this were a medieval fantasy novel, I'd be Prince Charming.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

I stay silent. Maybe I owe it to him.  
“Snow.”  
I close my eyes for a moment. Then I turn to him, with the faintest smile, and I saviour his appearance. 

“You are not a bad person.”  
“You keep telling me I am.”  
“I'm just doing that to hurt you, that doesn't mean it's true. The truth is... You're the bravest person I know. And you're trying your best. That's all anyone can do. You are the Chosen One. And I think one day you are going to save the World of Mages. And if it's not from the humdrum, or all evil, or the terrors of society, you _are_ going to save it from me, that's for sure.”  
“So you think we're not bad people, only you?”  
I stay silent.  
“That's bullshit, Baz. You don't get to separate yourself from me! You don't get to decide what's good or evil!”  
“No, you're right, I can't. But the Universe can. And the Universe made the roles distinctly clear. _You_ are the Chosen One. The hero. And I'm your villain, Snow. I'm from the other side of the war, I'm a vampire, I'm a monster by definition.”  
“No, you're not.”  
I look at him and see tears streaming down his face. I almost reach out to touch them.  
“The Universe decided shit. I'm clearly not the Chosen One. And you're clearly not a monster. There is no black and white. You and I, we're in the same boat.”

I shake my head.

“That in there, that wasn't me or you – that was us. That's what happens when we're together. And I'm starting to think that this is not about us, but about the ones we hurt in our fights.”

“So now you'll just – stop?”  
“I don't think we can do that. I think we can only coexist in hell, where everything burns.”  
“So what do you want to do? Just stop talking at all, ignoring each other until the end of school?”  
“Maybe that's for the best.”

“No.”  
“Why?”

_Because I wouldn't survive that._

“Aren't you tired, too, Baz?”  
I close my eyes again. I have a headache. Yes. I am tired. I've been tired for years.

“Yes, I am,” I murmur. But then, what were all the years of fighting for? What use were all the years of pretence? I look at him again and for the first time in years I allow myself to look at him properly, the way I want to look at him. I let my gaze soften and I smile at him.

_Fuck, he's beautiful. And he's tired of fighting._

I wish I could let my knuckles glide over his cheek, push his hair out of his forehead with my fingertips. I wish he would lean forward until our lips almost touch and whisper: “I don't want to be enemies... I want to be your boyfriend.”

I want him to kiss me.

But even though he just suggested a truce, he's still Simon Snow, and I shouldn't be getting ideas. I remember why I ever fought him in the first place. Because it's really hard not to lean over to him, not to tell him, not to somehow let him know, and he can never know. He's still Simon Snow and I'm still Baz Pitch, and there's no way he could ever understand what he does to me.

“Or...”

Or what?  
“Or maybe we could... be friends?”  
I look away, then back at him, then away again. _ Ha,  _ I want to say,  _ that would never work. _

But my mouth doesn't listen to my brain, and so I say: “We can try.”

“But what if everything explodes again?”  
“What, because we're chemicals that don't go well with each other?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Maybe it's just because we have chemistry and we've been doing it wrong the whole time.”  
A joke. Friends joke. No. Wait. That wasn't friendly.

“Ch-chemistry?”  
Shit. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. I consider all my options, thinking if there's any way to talk myself out of this, but the only words coming to my mind are: “ _ **Tigre, tigre, burning bright** _ .”

Not helpful.

“Y-you mean like... Sexual chemistry?”  
“No...”  
I gulp.  
“More like... romantic...”  
“What?! You think we have romantic chemistry?!”  
I should just walk away and go back to our dorm. No, scratch that. I should leave the country.

“Baz... Do you have a crush on me?”  
I turn my head around quickly and stare into his wide eyes.

“You're a fucking idiot, Snow,” I growl and I watch his face screw up. I suppose there's no point in denying it anymore.

“Of fucking course I have a crush on you. What did you think, that I was the only Mage in the entire universe who doesn't love you?”  
“Not everyone lov-”  
“You're an open fire, Snow,” I say, voice rough, and the words are burning in my throat. “And you know... I love fire.”  
I let a flame dance above my palm.

“I already told you... You're the bravest person I know. The truth is, I don't hate how clumsy you are and how you always stumble over words, I find it adorable. I like how you keep trying, and never give up. Sometimes it seems to me like you're everything good in the world.”  
_ And gosh, it feels good to say that out loud. _

“So, yeah, I do have a crush on you. But Crowley knows what you think about me...”  
I stand up, because I just ruined everything Snow was just trying to built between the two of us. (I mean, I knew that that would happen, but not so fast. Dammit, Baz.)

“Perfect,” Simon says, before I can start moving.

“What?”  
He stands up and takes my hand. I look at it and wonder why it lays there, caressing me softly.

“I think you're perfect,” he whispers.

“You're out of your mind,” I whisper back. I don't wait for him to kiss me. I grab him by his neck, because this is a dream anyways, so I might as well do what I want.

I'm not saying that Snow is my soulmate. But maybe Snow and I are broken pieces, and together... I lean into his soft embrace, and I feel whole.

 


End file.
